The fog curls around my neighbor’s lamp posts
like a cat aching to
get its back scratched,
but it is the world that purrs not the fog,
the traffic on the highway forced to slow
its pace and grumbling over its disability,
we all lost in this thing we cannot peer through
or get around or over or above or below,
stuck inside this heavy air until some other
entity beyond strips away its layers
and sets us free, so we, see nothing
until sunlight comes, and sometimes
here in the midst of mists I’m not so certain
I want yet to be set free
Scratching my back against lamp post
Purring with life that has been forced
To slow down, needing no speed bump
To give me reprieve
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